Party in a Forest Where's Harry?
by imbananasfordananas
Summary: Voldy's throwing a party. Dancing comical dances of cardboard boxes and fish.


Party in a Forest [Where's Harry?]

The Prince's Tale (Chapter Thirty-Three) from Voldemort's point of view-sort of

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Prince's Tale

Harry remained kneeling at Snape's side, simply staring down at him, until quite suddenly a high, cold voice spoke so close to them that Harry jumped to his feet, the flask gripped tightly in his hands, thinking that Voldemort had reentered the room.

Voldemort's voice reverberated from the walls and floor, and Harry realized that he was talking to Hogwarts and to all the surrounding area, that the residents of Hogsmeade and all those still fighting in the castle would hear him as clearly as if he stood beside them, his breath on the back of their necks, a deathblow away.

"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.

"Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle commences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

As the students, parents, and professors began to panic, Voldemort strode coolly into the forest awaiting the arrival of his Death Eaters. The further from the castle he glided, the darker and more malicious the air became. Voldemort wandered in the shadows until he found a wide clearing layered in several inches of grass and moss. He stopped. The lack of trees caused for the moonlight to shine into the clearing, lighting it ever so slightly. Death Eaters began to appear a little while later with dim shadows upon their mask-less faces.

They stood in silence until the last of the Death Eaters trickled in. One follower, hiding his face, quietly whispered in a raspy voice, "Have we got a plan, my Lord?"

"Of course I have got a plan, you imbecile. Did I not just announce it to the entire castle?" responded the ticked off Lord.

The man who had asked the question, looking to the ground, whimpered silently and unnoticeably fell into the back of the crowd, nearing the trees.

Voldemort began to pace in front of the silent crowd, obviously not wanting to anger him further.

Several minutes passed before the Dark Lord began, "Why are you all just standing around? You know, I have board games in that bag," he said, pointing to a large black bag in the hands of a Death Eater in the distance. "Knock yourself out, guys. We've got an hour."

The Death Eaters were careful as they moved. Fear hung in the air. Each Death Eater was thinking the same thing: _Is he serious?_

"OF COUSE I'M SERIOUS!" he shouted furiously.

Waiting for Harry was not something Voldemort had particularly liked to do, and it happened too often. In this case, Voldemort was becoming more and more impatient. He was pacing. He tended to do this when he was anxious. Every small sound in the distance would temporarily excite the Lord. As a twig cracked, he would look up quickly with a large smile on his face, only to find no Potter boy. As time passed, Voldemort did this more and more frequently and only became more and more disappointed. These false signs were usually a centaur of two, or maybe a thestral, with the occasional giant or half-giant clambering along.

Voldemort stood in the middle of the clearing for a good while tapping his foot angrily and impatiently checking his watch. All the while, he would be straining his eyes, gazing out into the distance, to see any sign of his Harry Potter. Every so often, he would play with his wand and cast a simple charm on the grass or a passing cockroach. Maybe, he would even bite or pick at his long, cold, unkempt fingernails.

One hour was almost up and Voldemort began to dance with excitement.


End file.
